estimate tonight.”
Karen maintained a deafening silence. With a note of surrender in his voice, Greg asked, “Okay, what’s this all about?”
“Your daughter was just telling me about her travel plans.”
“I am going to visit Linda in Chicago when school gets out,” said Jenny defiantly.
“Wait a minute, hold it,” said Greg, raising up his hands.
But Karen could not back down. “Let me tell you something, little girl. You do not make the decisions around here. Not while you are living in this house.”
Jenny’s eyes were fiery. “Well, maybe I won’t live in this house anymore. Maybe I’ll just go and live with my real mother.”
“Don’t you threaten us,” Greg exclaimed.
Jenny ran from the kitchen.
“You get back in here,” he yelled after her, “and apologize.”
“I won’t,” Jenny cried, and they could hear her footsteps thudding up the stairs. Greg turned back to Karen, who was wiping her hands distractedly on a dish towel. “It’s just a lot of big talk,” he said.
Karen shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. “This is the real thing. This is just what I was afraid of.”
“You’re letting her walk all over you,” he said irritably, taking a beer out of the refrigerator. “It’s all going to blow over. This woman will get back to Chicago and forget all about Jenny.”
Karen squinted at him as if she were having trouble seeing him. “Are you listening to what’s going on?” she demanded. “Are you paying attention? We’re losing her. I am going to lose her.”
“You’re just not thinking clearly,” he said. “If you weren’t still depressed about the baby, you’d realize that this isn’t going to amount to anything.”
“I can’t talk to you,” she said.
“There’s no reason to think we will lose her.”
“There was no reason to think we’d lose the baby…but we did.”
“That’s different and you know it,” he said.
“Why is it different? One day everything is going along fine, and the next day your world collapses. It happens.”
Greg stared past her shoulder, out into the darkening yard.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
Greg shrugged and shook his head. “Nothing.”
“You know I’m right.”
Greg took a swig of his beer and sank down on a stool beside the island. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” she said in a chilly tone.
“I’ll just go wash up,” he said. “Look up a few prices before this meeting.”
Karen ignored him. It’s my problem, she thought bitterly as he left the kitchen. I’ll deal with it.
Chapter Eight
“Well hallelujah,” said Margo Hofsteder, waddling back to the desk from the front door of the motel. “Knudsen finally showed up to fix the ice machine. His truck just pulled in.”
Eddie, who was still groggy from his afternoon beers, glanced up at the clock. “Kinda late,” he said. “It’s nearly seven-thirty.”
“Better late than never,” said Margo, plucking another cookie from the box on the desk and returning her attention to the old detective movie on the TV.
“I checked about the spindles for the railing,” Eddie reported. “They won’t be in until next week. Is there anything else?”
Margo held out the box of cookies. “Have one of these. They’re good. I got them at the volunteer fireman’s bake sale.”
Eddie waved the box away. “I don’t want no cookie some fireman baked.”
Margo chuckled and rummaged around the desk for a list. “Here,” she said. “Just a couple of burnt-out bulbs.”
“What’s this?” Eddie complained. “I can’t read it. There’s grease all over it.”
“Gimme,” said Margo, waggling her butter-stained fingers. She put on her half glasses and frowned at the list. “That’s 216, and 250. And check 160. They sneaked a dog in. Carpet stain.”
Eddie made a face. “All right. I’ll get it.”
“Be back by eight,” said Margo. “My back’s bothering me.”
“I’ll be
Karen maintained a deafening silence. With a note of surrender in his voice, Greg asked, “Okay, what’s this all about?”
“Your daughter was just telling me about her travel plans.”
“I am going to visit Linda in Chicago when school gets out,” said Jenny defiantly.
“Wait a minute, hold it,” said Greg, raising up his hands.
But Karen could not back down. “Let me tell you something, little girl. You do not make the decisions around here. Not while you are living in this house.”
Jenny’s eyes were fiery. “Well, maybe I won’t live in this house anymore. Maybe I’ll just go and live with my real mother.”
“Don’t you threaten us,” Greg exclaimed.
Jenny ran from the kitchen.
“You get back in here,” he yelled after her, “and apologize.”
“I won’t,” Jenny cried, and they could hear her footsteps thudding up the stairs. Greg turned back to Karen, who was wiping her hands distractedly on a dish towel. “It’s just a lot of big talk,” he said.
Karen shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. “This is the real thing. This is just what I was afraid of.”
“You’re letting her walk all over you,” he said irritably, taking a beer out of the refrigerator. “It’s all going to blow over. This woman will get back to Chicago and forget all about Jenny.”
Karen squinted at him as if she were having trouble seeing him. “Are you listening to what’s going on?” she demanded. “Are you paying attention? We’re losing her. I am going to lose her.”
“You’re just not thinking clearly,” he said. “If you weren’t still depressed about the baby, you’d realize that this isn’t going to amount to anything.”
“I can’t talk to you,” she said.
“There’s no reason to think we will lose her.”
“There was no reason to think we’d lose the baby…but we did.”
“That’s different and you know it,” he said.
“Why is it different? One day everything is going along fine, and the next day your world collapses. It happens.”
Greg stared past her shoulder, out into the darkening yard.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
Greg shrugged and shook his head. “Nothing.”
“You know I’m right.”
Greg took a swig of his beer and sank down on a stool beside the island. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” she said in a chilly tone.
“I’ll just go wash up,” he said. “Look up a few prices before this meeting.”
Karen ignored him. It’s my problem, she thought bitterly as he left the kitchen. I’ll deal with it.
Chapter Eight
“Well hallelujah,” said Margo Hofsteder, waddling back to the desk from the front door of the motel. “Knudsen finally showed up to fix the ice machine. His truck just pulled in.”
Eddie, who was still groggy from his afternoon beers, glanced up at the clock. “Kinda late,” he said. “It’s nearly seven-thirty.”
“Better late than never,” said Margo, plucking another cookie from the box on the desk and returning her attention to the old detective movie on the TV.
“I checked about the spindles for the railing,” Eddie reported. “They won’t be in until next week. Is there anything else?”
Margo held out the box of cookies. “Have one of these. They’re good. I got them at the volunteer fireman’s bake sale.”
Eddie waved the box away. “I don’t want no cookie some fireman baked.”
Margo chuckled and rummaged around the desk for a list. “Here,” she said. “Just a couple of burnt-out bulbs.”
“What’s this?” Eddie complained. “I can’t read it. There’s grease all over it.”
“Gimme,” said Margo, waggling her butter-stained fingers. She put on her half glasses and frowned at the list. “That’s 216, and 250. And check 160. They sneaked a dog in. Carpet stain.”
Eddie made a face. “All right. I’ll get it.”
“Be back by eight,” said Margo. “My back’s bothering me.”
“I’ll be
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